


All My Love, Stiles

by tabbytabbytabby



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [22]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Fluff, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Letters, M/M, Married Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Mentioned Claudia Stilinski - Freeform, Sad Ending, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stiles Stilinski Has Frontotemporal Dementia, Suicide Notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 16:36:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17512124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabbytabbytabby/pseuds/tabbytabbytabby
Summary: Derek's world shifts when Stiles gets diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia.





	All My Love, Stiles

**Author's Note:**

> For the Memory Loss slot of Bad Things Happen Bingo.
> 
> I made myself sad writing this. I woke up with the knowledge that I'm at almost 100 fics for Sterek and not one of them has been MCD. And my angsty ass brain took it as a challenge.
> 
> See the end notes for what the implied suicide tag refers to.

The words sound loudly in the silent room. Until then it had been eerily quiet. As if the occupants had been afraid to breathe as they waited to hear the news.

“You have frontotemporal dementia.”

It’s as if everything suddenly comes shattering to the ground, or maybe that’s just Derek’s heart.

Across the room, the Sheriff falls to his knees, unable to hold back his sobs of grief.

Derek himself has tears slipping out his eyes.

But Stiles…

Stiles stands there, calm as Derek’s ever seen him. His face holds no emotion. His heart is carefully steady. He doesn’t look at Derek or his father before he turns and leaves.

Derek watches as the Sheriff stumbles to his feet to go after his son, but Derek puts a hand on his chest and shakes his head. “Just give him a moment.”

“Let me go to my son, Hale,” John grits out, trying to move around Derek.

Derek holds firm, “You can. But later. We both know Stiles won’t talk about this until he wants to. He needs time.”

“He doesn’t have time!”

The words cause another kind of silence. John looks shocked that they even came out of his own mouth. He takes a few steps back, until his legs hit the edge of one of the chairs in the waiting room, and then he all but crumples into it.

He puts his head in his hands, and his shoulders start to shake. Derek can smell the salt of his tears. He moves to sit next to him, and places a hand on his shoulders. Not for the first time he wishes he was able to take away emotional pain.

His own is strong right now. The thought of losing Stiles isn’t something he even wants to contemplate. But it’s a harsh reality none of them can deny. He’ll deal with his own feelings later. Right now John needs him. And somewhere out there, so does Stiles. Whether he wants to admit it or not.

Stiles is home when he gets there. He’s sitting on the edge of their bed, staring down at his hands. He doesn’t look up when Derek enters the room and sits down next to him. Derek is starting wonder if he’s even noticed he’s there, until Stiles speaks.

“I’d been hoping this was some kind of horrible dream. But I have the right amount of fingers, and I can’t seem to escape it. No matter how hard I try.”

Derek puts an arm around him, and Stiles sinks into his hold.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this, Der. I saw what my mom was like. How she treated everyone around her. She’d get so angry sometimes and she’d lash out. I don’t want to make anyone see me like that. Make _you_ see me like that. It’s not fair.”

His voice cracks at the end, and Derek feels warm tears seeping through his shirt. All he can do is hold Stiles as he sobs into his shoulder. He feels his own tears start to fall, and buries his face in Stiles’ hair.

“I know,” Derek murmurs. “I wish I could stop this from happening to you.”

“It’s not enough time,” Stiles whispers. “I feel like we only just got to a place where we could be happy, and now this is happening.”

Derek closes his eyes and holds Stiles tighter.

* * *

 

The doctors can’t say how much time Stiles has. They say it can be anywhere from two years to ten. Neither are promising, nor feel like near enough time.

Derek tries to act normally. He doesn’t want Stiles to feel like he’s under a microscope, or that his behavior is constantly being watched and analyzed.

He still picks up on the changes. It would be hard not to, at least not now that he knows to look. They’d hardly noticed that anything was wrong at first. Stiles’ judgement and focus has always seemed a little skewed.

The fact that Stiles had been living with this disease for months and no one had known makes Derek feel a little guilty. Stiles is his husband. He should have realized something was off. But he hadn’t. At least not until that recklessness had led to Stiles getting hurt and they’d had to do an MRI. They’d found the frontotemporal dementia while looking for something else.

This is their reality now. All they can do is adjust to it. Which is easier said than done. Stiles has been varying between acting as if nothing is wrong to fits of anger and lashing out.

It’s when his memory starts to change that they realize the disease is progressing faster than they’d like. Derek had been hoping for the ten years. The universe doesn’t seem to want to give them that.

Derek’s sitting at the dining room table, having a cup of coffee when Stiles comes rushing down the stairs. He looks around the room quickly, before he spots Derek. A frown forms on his face as he steps closer to Derek, looking wary.

“Derek? Where the hell are we?”

“At home,” Derek tells him, taking a sip of his coffee.

Stiles’ frown deepens, “Yeah I don’t think so. Where are we really?”

“We’re at home, Stiles. In our kitchen.”

“ _Our_ kitchen? What do you mean our kitchen? Why would the kitchen be ours?”

“Because it’s in our house,” Derek tells him, worry starting to build in him. He puts his coffee down, and stands up. “We built it years ago, just before we got married.”

Stiles laughs, “Now you’re really messing with me. There’s no way we’re married.”

Derek’s eyes drift down to the ring on Stiles’ finger before moving back up to his face. He watches as Stiles follows where his gaze went, and he sucks in a breath. He moves his fingers on his right hand over to touch the ring. “It’s real. But how? I don’t understand.”

Derek moves over to him, trying to put a hand on his shoulder but Stiles moves away, placing himself against the wall, “Don’t touch me.”

“Stiles,” Derek says, “It’s alright.”

“How is it alright?” Stiles asks, his voice rising slightly in panic. “You’re here telling me that we’re married. I have a wedding band on, and it’s clearly been on for a while. But I don’t remember. Why can’t I remember?”

Derek doesn’t have the heart to say the words. He does his best to smile, “We had quite a night last night. Maybe temporary hangover amnesia.”

Stiles relaxes slightly at that, “How much did I drink?”

“I lost count,” Derek tells him. “You were determined to outdrink Mason.”

“And did I?”

“You did your best,” Derek says. He’s thinking about the time Stiles and Mason really did have a drinking competition at his graduation party. He’d wound up puking in the woods behind the house, and then curling up in front of a tree shortly after.

Stiles sighs and pushes off the wall, “I wish I could remember. All of it. I bet our wedding night was something.”

Derek smiles fondly, “It really was.”

“Don’t tell me I was drunk for that too.”

“You weren’t,” Derek assures him. “You said you wanted it to be a night to remember.”

And it was. They’d both been so happy that night. The euphoria of being newlyweds had shown in everything they did that night. Even years later, Derek still loves Stiles as much as he had that night, if not more. Which is why seeing him like this is so hard. He’d known they might get to this point eventually, but he’d hoped for more time. Though he’s not sure he ever would have been able to prepare himself. At least Stiles is calm. He’s now standing in their kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee as he hums to himself.

When he turns to Derek, he smiles. That same smile he’s worn so many times before. Derek feels his heart clench, and feels a stab of guilt when he wonders how many more of those he has left.

* * *

  
A few days later, Derek wakes up to find Stiles’ side of the bed empty. It’s cold. He’s been gone a while. Derek knows he had to make some effort to get out without Derek noticing he was leaving. The thought that he wanted to get out undetected has him worried.

He looks at the nightstand on Stiles’ side and sees an envelope there, with his name written on it in Stiles’ familiar scrawl. He hands shake as he reaches over to grab the letter. He sits up, running a hand through his hair.

He looks down at the letter, and knows what it’s going to tell him without even having to open it. Stiles had been far too cheerful last night. As if he wasn’t facing the same terrifying disease that had taken his mother away, long before it had killed her. He remembers Stiles talking years ago about how he’d rather die than go through that. Than put the people he loves through that pain.

Derek closes his eyes and takes a shuddering breath, feeling tears already stinging at his eyes. He opens the letter with shaky hands and stares down at the words.

 

_Hey Der,_

_I know you’re probably going to be angry at me for doing this. You have every right to be. I just need you to understand why. I think you probably already do. You’ve always been able to understand me better than anyone else. But I still need to say my piece. As a dying man that is my right._

_Watching my mom deal with this disease fucked me up. For so long every time I thought of her, all I could see was her in that hospital bed or yelling at me and not knowing who I was. She lost herself. The worst part is I couldn’t blame her for it. It wasn’t her fault._

_I can’t do that to you, or Dad, or Scott, or the pack. I can’t make you watch me as I slowly deteriorate until I’m not even myself anymore. I want you to remember me as I am. Remember the person that loves you and would smile at your jokes, even if they are horrible. Remember how happy I was standing next to you on our wedding day. Remember all the good things. If I can leave you with one last gift, I want it to be our good memories._

_I know you would have been here with me if I’d asked. But I couldn’t. It wouldn’t have been fair. I’m not going to tell you where I am. When the time comes I’ll 911 so at least someone will find me, but I can’t have that person be you, or Dad. It wouldn't be fair. Good memories, remember?_

_Look after Dad for me, will you? He’s going to need someone, and I know you will too. You’re the only person who can really understand what he’s feeling. Just don’t let him be alone. And don’t you be alone either. You deserve to be happy. I know that might seem impossible right now, but please Der. Don’t shut yourself off. Let yourself live, and love. For me._

_I love you so much, Derek Hale. You’ve given me so many happy memories. They’re going to be what I hold onto in the end. You’ll be here with me in some form. Take comfort in that._

_Goodbye Derek._

_All my love,  
_ _Stiles_

 

Derek howls. He howls until his throat feels raw and he doesn’t have the energy to howl anymore. Only then does he curl up on his side in their bed. He buries his face in Stiles’ pillow, seeking out his scent as he clutches the letter to his chest.

He knows Stiles is out there somewhere. He’s probably already dead. The thought sends another series of sobs through him.

An hour later his phone rings and he sees Parrish’s name. He knows before he even answer the phone what he’s going to be told. What they’ve found. He lets it go to voicemail.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos/Comments make my day.<3  
> [My tumblr](http://tabbytabbytabby.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Note: The suicide warning pertains to a letter Stiles writes to Derek when he plans to kill himself. While the outcome is not seen, his suicide is heavily implied.


End file.
